My aftermath
by Garcia's-writter
Summary: Hey, it's me, Hermione. I just wanted to let you know that, as we agreed on, my bus will arrive around 7PM to the bus station. I should be at the restaurant around 7h17PM, don't forget to met me there. And I hope for your bloody sake that you won't be late


**Author note: Please beware that in order for this xover to work, the second wizarding was (May 2, 1998) happened at the same time of the Vampire Diaries season 1) and this story is a little bit tricky with the time settings so if you actually wish to understand it then be sure to read the time line. BTW, it doesn't really follow DH, in this story the horocruxes hunting took 2years after the events of 6th year.**

 **Also: I am not a native born English speaker so there WILL be errors and I am deeply sorry if some sentence doesn't make sense. Be sure to let me know if you see sentence that makes no sense and I will do my best to correct it**

PROLOGUE

 **Voicemail received on June 20th, 9AM (Present day)**

« Hey, it's me, Hermione. I just wanted to let you know that, as we agreed on, my bus will arrive around 7PM to the bus station. I should be at the restaurant around 7h17PM, don't forget to met me there. And I hope for your bloody sake that you won't be late »

* * *

 **One year earlier, June 20** Excerpt from the Personal diary or Hermione Granger

Most people think that the hardest part of war is the fighting.

They are wrong.

Those who not only took part and a war, but also survived one know that the fighting is the easy part.

The hard part is the after-war. During war time surviving is your only motivation.

« Kill or be killed» becomes your new life motto.

At first killing is hard, you still see the enemy as a human being. You think about their family, their friends, you guilt. Then you say those deadly words.. Avada Kedavra. A green light shots as a life ends. The more you kill, the less guilty you feel. After all, it is war, killing is our duty. They deserve to die, right? And, one day, you wake up and realize that you have lost your innocence. Killing is as easy as breathing. That guilt you once bore, the one who let you feel human once in a while, no longer exists.

After all, why should you feel guilty about killing the ones who want to kill you? It has become easy, but you are not free.

The hardest part of war is dealing with what you had to do during that period. You had to kill, you ended many lives and you saw, after a while, no wrong in doing so. However, when you realize that the majority of those people who want to kill you didn't really want to kill you. You are told that the boy who you went to school with killed to protect his parents, he had no choice. Unlike you. You realize that the woman whom you killed and who killed your friend was tortured because she didn't believe in some blood superiority. And as your perfect little logical universe falls apart, the guilt returns.

Only, it returns a thousand times stronger.

You cannot breath, you cannot feel anymore. That emptiness inside of you is worse than the one a dementor makes you feel.

You are suffering.

You cannot live anymore.

You want to die

You want to end that pain so badly that it consumes you.

Of course, your family and you friends don't understand you anymore. Where is the happy-bossy girl from before?

''She died' you tell yourself.

And the truth is, she died that day at Malfoy's manor.

* * *

 **Muggle London, England June 5th** **, Hermione's flat**

It was a beautiful day. It wasn't raining and, for once, the sun had gracefully blessed London with it's presence. However it wasn't a happy day. I wasn't happy anymore. I was sad, nervous, anxious but I wasn't happy.

Of course I would smile, only it wasn't to express a feeling. Smiling was a necessity, laughing too, because if I appeared sad, people would ask question. I don't like being asked questions, I feel like I'm being interrogated. It brings back bad memories and I usually react strongly to those. When that happens I can't control myself. I go back to some sort of surviving mode that I am unaware of and the others don't see it coming. It'' usually being a violent reaction, an hex most likely.

After one too many of those episodes, Ron made me consult.

''Blimey love, what happened with you? You went crazy for a while there.'' was his reaction the first time it happened.

But, when it became clear to him that that kind of reaction wasn't a once in a lifetime thing, he just detached himself from me. Well that was after dumping me at the psychiatric ward of St-Mungos saying he had enough drama for a life time and that he had a reputation to uphold, he couldn't be with someone as affected as I was by the aftermath of the war. He couldn't stand my hallucinations so he send me off.

That's when the therapy began.

My medi-witch was a life saver, in both the literal and real sens of the world.

I refused to speak at first. I didn't see what was _wrong_ wiht me, I wasn't crazy.

Yet, she saved me from myself.

The war had changed me, only I wasn't aware of that.

I didn't know what PTSD was, or that I had it. Or maybe I knew but did not want to acknowledge it. And when she confronted me about it, I snaped. I couldn't hear it so I left.

A week later, after my worst hallucination I went back to her. I had to.

We talked.

The she told me, I wasn't crazy, I was emotionally damaged. It was normal that after 2 years of hunting horocruxes, hiding from the deatheater and fighting against Voldermort I had some sequels*.

Not everyone copes with the aftermath of a hard even the same way, Harry had left Britain without a word, Ron had become obsessed with wealth and I suffered emotionally

We were all different.

And she helped me, she helped me save myseld. She didn't let me give up on myseld and, for that, I will always be grateful to her.

She helped me in ways I couldn't, but as always some problems cannot be removed. I had fewer hallucinations, but some remained. The one who made me suffer most, that's when she told me that, perhaps, a change of senary would do me good.

And, today for the first time since my 6th year, I let myself think about _him_ and I told someone about _him._


End file.
